


Branded

by Selaena



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Female Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:41:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23388922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selaena/pseuds/Selaena
Summary: That he is in every breath you take, every nightmare, that every accomplishment and failure is branded with his name. That there is no Halina Potter without Tom Riddle...Previously posted on Fanfiction.net
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle
Comments: 1
Kudos: 58





	Branded

You never want them to figure it out. How much he means to you, how much of him is you. He created you. Gave you the confidence and the burning defiance that makes you who you are. That he is in every breath you take, every nightmare, that every accomplishment and failure is branded with his name. That there is no Halina Potter without Tom Riddle. 

You’re the best defence student in your year, and everyone, Ron, Hermione, Dumbledore, Snape, they believe it’s because you like it. That’s not true. You have to be good at it. You have to win. You refuse to be lesser, especially to him. So, you train harder in secret, learning spells too old for you, dangerous magic you’re too young to cast. Because you will not bow and he will not spare you. And each year your magic and knowledge grow. You push yourself harder, you have to be better, and then get up and do it again. Your spells have to be faster, more powerful, more devastating. Because the next time you see him, you will mark him as he has you. You want him to bleed, to be in pain, to be so furiously, tempestuously angry that every time he hears your name, he shivers with something. This man who has defined your life, you will brand him as surely as he has branded you. You will do whatever it takes, because he could kill you one day, but you want every half-heard spell to scream your name, every whisper of wind to be your breath on his neck, the same as his is for you. 

People praise your natural born talent, say it’s to be expected of the girl-who-lived. No one realizes it, that you are the same, the two of you. No one knows or respects how hard you have had to work, have to work to get where you are. That you broke your arm 7 times trying to learn a curse that kept exploding back at you. Knocked yourself unconscious from magical exhaustion. That you have been wearing glamours to hide the bruises and cuts that cover your too skinny body, because you can’t afford to have the public lose faith in you. In the end, both of you are degraded to just titles; the Girl-Who-Lived, and The Dark Lord. It is not Halina that killed the Basilisk, it was the child saviour. The Girl-Who-Lived cannot die because she is legend, as is the Dark Lord. But it is Halina who feels the unbridled savage victory from surviving a single day, and you share it with him, Tom. Your continuing existence echoing through your scar every time the sun rises and sets.

Nothing makes you feel more alive than when the two of you duel, and it’s a dance. A brutal, cruel, dance that you share. When Dumbledore and Voldemort duel, it is almost showing off. Who can cast the most complicated magic. Who can prove that they are the most powerful. Voldemort never loses control, has never truly been afraid. Voldemort and Dumbledore duel like two powerful leaders.  
When you and Tom duel, for he has been Tom since your second year, it is that of two feral predators. A no holds barred honourless back-alley fight. He cannot keep his barriers up around you, because you are not trying to kill him, no, you are trying to slaughter him. The two of you fight like the neglected children you are, the ones who starved and shivered on cold nights. Who hate the world and everyone in it. Who fought for every piece of food, and swallowed your pride to run from those bigger than you. But you can protect yourself now and so can he. So, you spin between his spells, and they pass over your skin like the finest of blades. You are bleeding, and gasping in pain, but so is he. The only finesse is that of your brutality. There is no grace, or respect, or tradition. You fight dirty, cheat, use illegal spells, aim for the places where he is already injured. You thrill in the feeling of harsh spells he casts back at you, because he’s not holding back, his face is pulled a snarl, and you know yours is in a feral grin. Your magic twists and pulls and claws at each other. You can’t breathe, and the magic is so thick in the air that it burns your skin, and you are free. You are not restrained by titles or feelings or even morals. There is no time for thought, just instinct and reflex. There is just you and him and your magic as it clashes. 

Then suddenly it is over, and you stand over his dead body. You can’t say that it is sorrow and not relief that makes the tears slide down your cheeks. Because the person who pushed you, challenged you, the only one who understood you is gone. You never really believed that you would be the one left standing alone.. That it would be him who couldn't keep up with you. And suddenly you’re irrationally angry, and betrayed because how dare he. How dare he define who you are and then leave. You can feel pieces of your soul crumbling. Now there’s no-one. No-one left who knows who Halina Potter. Halina Potter dies with Tom Riddle.

The-Girl-Who-Lived is the one who stands over Lord Voldemort’s body.


End file.
